The Devil Never Sleeps
by Mrs.Monster
Summary: Sam goes to Hell and Dean gets a phone call from Molly that changes his entire world. SPN, post S5; Sherlock post s2, AU. Rating may change.


_**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Supernatural or Sherlock. No copyright infringement intended.**_

_**Author's Note: DeanxMolly is legit my otp. I can't help it. So here I go with another story I really don't have the time for, but will update as frequently as I can. What would the DeanxMolly ship be called? Dolly? Mean? I don't even know.**_

_**Drop me a line, kids.**_

_**The Devil Never Sleeps**_

_**One: Dreaming Again**_

Anyone in the world who thought they had problems had clearly never met Dean Winchester. _Dean Winchester _had problems. Big ones. Granted they weren't as intense as they'd once been- they weren't apocalypse heavy problems. No, they were more like falling in love with his dead brother's girl. Only she really _hadn't_ been his girl, but she _was_ the mother of his dead brother's baby. A baby that may or may not be the antichrist.

And that dead brother? As it turned out, not really so much dead after all.

Dean Winchester had problems. He figured that every one else who thought _they _did could just eat a dick.

…

Sam had been in hell for just over a month and Dean was in Oklahoma when Molly called the cell phone that had been rattling around in the glove box. He knew that he should have been with Lisa and Ben, playing house just like Sam had wanted but Dean just _couldn't_. He thought that if he stayed too still he would lose what little of his mind he had left. Already most nights ended deep inside of a bottle and no way was he going to dump that load on an old flame who had a _kid_. He'd been on the other side of that, and he couldn't bring himself to put that on Ben.

He was behind the wheel of the Impala, parked in the gravel lot of the Sleepwell Inn when he heard the tinny classical music and the heavy vibration coming from his left. Yellow and red neon lights burned bright in the darkness above a matching vacancy sign. He stared blankly at the closed glove box before diving over the seat and scrambling with the latch. The number on the display was an international one, the name _Molly _popping up in bold letters. Dean had to stop and think for a moment before it came back to him. Several months back, Bobby sent them to London to get Dean and Sam away from the nasty business of the apocalypse, from the Michael and Lucifer mess for just a few days. It was a good, old-fashioned hunt, a string of dead bodies missing their skeletons and no reason why. Molly was the pathologist they worked with at the morgue where the bodies had been taken and ended up getting sucked into the whole monster mash mess.

Dean also remembered the heavy, heated looks his little brother had shared with the doctor the day they left. It was after a night of drinking that Dean had ended with a cute little blonde he'd met at the pub Molly had taken them to.

The phone had stopped ringing and he knew that Sam's voice-mail would have picked up while he was remembering who exactly Molly was. After waiting a full minute for the icon that didn't pop up, Dean returned the call.

After three rings he didn't think she'd answer, but then there she was. "Sam?" Molly answered, sounding breathless.

Dean swallowed around the sudden burn in his throat. "No. It's Dean. Why are you calling?"

There was a long silence on the other end and Dean considered hanging up, until Molly finally spoke again. "I really need to speak with Sam. Do you know when, um, when he'll be avail-available?"

He slumped in his seat, scrubbing a hand over his face. The neon lights made his tan skin seem ghostly pale. "Look, Molly. I don't really know how to- screw it. Sam's dead." Dean pulled Sam's phone away from his ear as a loud clatter skated across the connection and he could hear Molly gasping for breath as she scrambled to retrieve her own phone.

She was panting in his ear. "D-Dead? No that- he can't be. _No_."

Dean didn't know what it was to this chick. She'd known his brother for fifty-two hours at the most. They'd shared _one _night. "Sorry, sweetheart. I'd heard my brother had epic dick, and I'm sure it's a great loss to the sexual community."

On the other end of the connection it sounded like Molly Hooper was having a full-blown panic attack. Dean could hear someone speaking to her, in that muffled second-hand phone call way. A man, trying to soothe her and still Dean just didn't_ get _it. London had been nearly half a year ago, if Molly was going to go full on _Crush_ she would have done it before now. And it didn't seem to fit her character anyway, not that Dean got to know her too well during their three days abroad.

"Okay. _Alright_," Molly was saying now. "I must speak with you then, in person. Everything has just become so much more complicated, I can't-" she took a giant breath. "Where are you?"

"Whoa, whoa. You need to talk, we're talking now." Dean was getting frustrated. Why was his life always filled with this cloak and dagger shit? Straightforward, that's how Dean liked to run his business.

"This really should be done in person. I've waited too long as it is. I should have- it doesn't matter now. _Please_. Tell me where you are."

"Jesus- _fine_. Whatever it is, if you're willing to blow that much cash to fly your little ass over here, that's your malfunction. Oklahoma, little town called Hardesty. Sleepwell Motel."

"Thank you. You have no idea how much this means- well, you'll see soon. I'll fly out tomorrow."

"Alright, lady. Whatever."

…

Molly deemed it necessary to call him at each juncture of her trip, just to make sure that he'd stayed put. So it was three days later, after she'd landed in Oklahoma City and had driven the four hours to Hardesty that she was knocking on Dean's motel room door. She looked just like he remembered- small, long brown hair, kind of like an elf. The blue striped sweater that she was wearing clearly belonged to a man, and she stood in the doorway looking terrified. Dean pulled her inside by her sleeve. Molly was blinking like an owl up at him, looking like she was going to have another panic attack.

To be completely honest, since the call that stuck him in this motel for several days, Dean's curiosity had been driving him crazy. What did she want to talk to him about? Whatever it was obviously involved Sam. Of course Dean had a few ideas, each of them less pleasant than the last. And the longer she stood there, twisting her fingers in the hem of her oversized sweater, he was pretty sure he knew which of his theories was correct.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Molly met his hard stare, swallowed thickly. "Yes."

"Son of a bitch." Dean had to sit down on the room's only bed, his mind racing from one thought to the next. "It's Sam's?"

"I wouldn't have come all this way if she weren't."

She. A girl. Sammy's girl. His niece. But Sam was gone. There were so many things Dean wanted to say, to ask, but only one stood out. "Why did you- London was_ months _ago._" _

"About five, yes." Molly pulled a chair from the small, fake wood table and sat. "And I don't know. It was six weeks or so after the two of you left when I realized. There were blood tests and doctors appointments and- I don't know."

"You _don't know_?" Dean was trying very hard to keep a lid on his emotions. If _Sam _had known, maybe he would still be here. Tried harder to find another way to trap Lucifer and Michael in the cage. Maybe he wouldn't have jumped into hell.

"I'm sorry." Her voice shook and Dean saw tears filling her eyes. "I know that I should have called him as soon as I found out but- I was just _scared_. I know what the two of you do- _did_- and- and I didn't know what to do."

"Yeah." Dean got that. He really did. It was a messed up version of the Lisa and Ben situation, if he looked at it from a certain angle. "Okay. Just- don't cry."

"What happened?" Molly asked, shaking her long sleeves down over her pale hands. She bunched the fabric up into fists, and seemed like she didn't really want to know the answer to her own question. "With Sam. How did he d-die?"

Dean had no clue how much Sam had told her during their brief time together. He had no clue where to start. "Did Sam ever tell you anything about vessels?" Molly's brows scrunched together, and she shook her head no. From the beginning then.

He told her everything, starting way back in Kansas when Mary Campbell made a deal with the yellow eyed demon. Because Molly was in it now. She was carrying Sam's _child_. A little girl who would have Winchester blood running through her, and Dean didn't know what kind of consequences that would carry. So he told her everything, and didn't stop until he was choking over the words of Sam's swan dive into hell with Lucifer riding his skin. It took awhile, but neither of them moved from their seats, and at some point Molly's hands had come up to cradle her belly that was only really prominent when she was sitting. Her fingers were twined together, protective, and her face had a green twinge.

"So Sam- the father of my baby- had _demon blood _and was the vessel of the devil?"

"And just think- most mothers only have to worry about ADD and asthma."

Molly looked like she might faint, and was sort of just staring blankly at the wall to her left. "Will my daughter have horns?"

Dean couldn't hold back the laugh that tore out of him just as Molly burst into tears.

…

For Dean Winchester, his entire world had changed when he'd opened that motel door in a shit motel in Oklahoma. Who wants their life to change in _Oklahoma_? Nothing besides tornado happened in the freaking OK state. And that it was just it- it was _OK_. If his life was going to change, why couldn't it have happened somewhere that had meaning? Kansas, for instance, or South Dakota.

But none of that even mattered, because it had. Growing inside of the unassuming pathologist that he and his brother had met on an off chance was the future. _His _future. Dean's world had always resided with Sammy and he was an idiot to think that that would change even though his brother had taken the plunge. Sam lived on in Molly, and in the girl that would arrive in just a matter of a few more months.

As soon as the talking was over, explanations out of the way, and Molly told him that she would tear someone's arm off for red, bloody meat, he bypassed her rental car (that Dean really had no idea how she'd managed to get. She didn't have a US license. Molly just mumbled something about _connections_.) and loaded her into the Impala. He'd driven them to the nearest diner, and Molly had ordered a steak, _rare, _and a chocolate milkshake. It was as he was sitting there, watching her as he ate his own slab of meat, with a small drip of reddish-steak juice dribbling from the corner of her mouth that it hit him.

He wanted to protect this woman's very _essence. _Dean wasn't the one who had knocked her up, but his next to last remaining family was growing in her belly. Family wasn't something Dean took lightly. To him, family- whether blood or not- was _everything_. Now, all he had left was Bobby and a not-finished-cooking little girl.

"You know I'm not letting you out of my sight, right?" Dean asked just before he took a sip of his Coke. Molly choked on the bite of steak she'd been gnawing on, but managed to get it down.

"I'm flying back to London tomorrow. I have work, and other... things."

He made the decision without having to think about it. Really, he'd known it since she'd confirmed his suspicions. "Then I guess we're going to have to buy another ticket."

…

If faced with the decision of fighting a group of demons or climbing onto a big metal tube with wings that would then fling him into the air and across and ocean, he'd pick the demons any day. Dean _hated _flying. More than demons, more than witches, more than vampires. To him, flying was more unnatural than any of the things he'd faced in his life. _Including _that whole ghost sickness thing. But if anything was worth it, he guessed that it was this.

Molly had agreed to his plan with surprising ease. A severe loneliness practically vibrated from the woman so he guessed that it shouldn't have been too shocking. He'd waited in the airport parking lot while she turned in their rental car, and then together they drove to Sioux Falls to see Bobby.

…

Dust flew up around the Impala as Dean pulled to a stop in Bobby's grass-bare yard. In the twelve hour drive from Oklahoma to South Dakota, Dean had filled Molly in on Bobby Singer. As much as could be described in words, anyway. Bobby, however, he hadn't told a damn thing. If it had been any other car, any other engine, they would have been met at the porch facing the double barrels of a sawed-off. But it _was_ Dean and he walked in without knocking like he was home.

"In the kitchen!" he heard Bobby yell.

The old hunter immediately shot away from the stove when he spotted the unknown woman trailing behind Dean. The plain gray tee-shirt she was wearing showed her swollen stomach, there was no hiding it with the way the soft material stretched over her not-quite huge baby bump.

Bobby smacked Dean with the spatula he'd been using to flip the burger sizzling on the stove. It was hot with grease and Dean yelled, diving behind Molly's petite form. "What in the hell did you do, jackass?!" Bobby yelled.

"It wasn't me! It was Sam!" Dean shouted. "Back off, you old nut!"

But of course Bobby would think that it was Dean that supplied the baby batter. His reputation was clouded with freaking mud. Dean gripped the back of Molly's shirt and she was staring over her shoulder at him, completely freaked out.

"What?" Bobby still had the spatula raised.

"Remember when you sent us to London back in November? The case for that buddy of yours? This is the lovely young lady our Sammy met working it. Apparently he forgot the no glove, no love rule."

Molly's face flamed red. "There was a shower involved. Slipped our minds." She was staring at the toes of her white Keds like they were the most interesting things in the world. At least he thought she could still see them, he didn't think her belly was in the way yet.

"Way too much information," Dean said, cautiously moving out from behind Molly. Bobby had lowered his plastic weapon, so he thought maybe he was safe.

Molly stepped forward and held a hand out. "Molly Hooper. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Singer."

Bobby's eyes flicked down to her hand. In he next moment he'd pulled a flask from his back pocket and threw holy water in her face. Molly just stood there blinking, water dripping down her face.

Then she walked up to Bobby, and kicked him right in the shin. Hard.

Molly turned on her heel and flounced out of the kitchen, muttering under her breath. A second later, Dean heard the front door slam.

"Great. Really great. Now you've got her pissed off." Dean dragged a hand through his hair. "Was that necessary?"

Bobby was defensive. "I had to check."

"You don't know how she gets, man. She was craving fried pickles on the way here and wouldn't even talk to me until I hunted some down. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find deep fried pickles between here and Oklahoma in freaking _March_? Almost impossible. I had to beg a sweaty dude that smelled like old ketchup and chicken soup to make some up for her. She legit _would not speak _until I got them for her. Just looked at me with those goddamn moon eyes until I caved." Dean was breathing hard, he dropped into a kitchen chair. "Hormones, man. They'll fuck you up."

Bobby patted the air around his shoulder awkwardly. "I'll go talk to her. You make more burgers." He jerked a thumb toward the now smoking lump of meat in the skillet.

Dean sighed deeply, happy to be on meat duty instead of pregnant chick duty. "On it."


End file.
